


What I Came Here For

by mktellstales



Series: Archived Work: 2013-2015 [19]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: (Kind of- Mostly), HLV- Fix it, Johnlock freeform, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2018-02-20 22:38:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2445734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mktellstales/pseuds/mktellstales
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John goes to see Sherlock the night before the wedding for a drink and maybe some conversation with his best friend, but things take a different turn than he planned from the moment he walks in the door.</p><p>Just a one shot to help me through a bout of writers block,</p>
            </blockquote>





	What I Came Here For

**Author's Note:**

> When I get writers block I just write stuff. Most of it is not worthy of publishing, but I thought this one was alright. It's my first time writing something so long from a first person POV, so I apologize if it's not as good as you might have come to expect from me, but I'm practicing my skills as well! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it though!  
> Let me know if you do :)

I step back. What the hell have I done? This isn't what I came here for. But isn't it?

Isn't this what I have been hurdling myself toward, and then pulling back from since our very first moment?

I bring myself to look at him, and Christ, his face. There's no mask; he isn't hiding anything, and I see the devastation. Of course he's devastated. He's wanted this as much as me for almost as long, and he's pretended he hasn't just the same.

"Sherlock -" I say.

And I want to turn and run away, I want to take it all back, un-press my lips from his. He won't look at me, and I don't know what to do. I'm no different than anybody else around Sherlock Holmes; I'm lost and three steps behind, waiting for him to lead me where I'm supposed to be.

"Sherlock." I say again.

And I'm faking a feeling of boldness, reaching out one of my hands to him. He watches the path it makes from where its been balled in a fist at my side to the tension thick air between us, and I see his face, his whole body change.

He tenses, and straightens, making himself taller and more imposing than he already is.

I've awoken the beast within the consulting detective.

"Why now?" he asks.

I hear the anger, but I also hear the sadness. Most people don't think Sherlock gets sad, but of course he does- I've seen it, even though he thinks I haven't.

"why, in all of our years together do you choose right now; eighteen hours before your wedding?"

"I didn't choose it! But I walked in here, and I saw you -"

Like I've seen you a hundred times, and wanted to pin you against the wall and kiss you senseless, but haven't. Why did I tonight, then?

_Because I know I've made a wrong decision in marrying Mary tomorrow, because if I spend the rest of my life never knowing the way your skin feels against mine, or the way your tongue tastes in my mouth, then I won't be living at all._

"If you're seeking comfort for your apprehension of tomorrows nuptials, you would have done better to call one of your ex girlfriends."

"I-yes, I did come here hoping to calm my nerves, but not like that."

"so, tell me John, how did you go from wanting to have a drink with me to kissing me?"

I stare at him, because what am I supposed to say? He's my best friend, my everything, and my heart has ached for him for so long

"tell me!" he yells.

"because you looked fucking beautiful!"

He did. He was standing in the centre of the living room in a pair of trousers I've seen a thousand times, and an orange button up in not sure I've ever seen. I caught him mid stride from the desk or maybe the sofa to the kitchen, and the way that he stopped, took a step backward to see me better in the doorway and smiled, snapped something deep inside my belly, and every reason I ever had for not, stopped screaming inside my head and I charged him, kissing him while my body blazed.

Sherlock is quiet again, and I don't know what that means. I'm not him, I can't read everything he's thinking from the way he's standing or from the twitches on his face. But I am smart enough to know that isn't good.

"No." he says lowly. "you chose now, because it can't be anything. You're safe after tonight. Free of the burden of your feelings."

"my feelings for you have never been a burden, Sherlock. Is that what you think of the feelings you have for me."

"of course I do! I've cared about you-"

The way he says _cared_ is the same way people utter words that are foreign and terrifying to their vocabulary. And I know I don't want to hear the rest of what he has to say, so I shake my head, and start to leave, regretting ever coming at all, but Sherlock is still talking, and I hear him say a word, one that should have been spat out at me the same way the _c_ word was, but it isn't. Its said softly, quietly and with apprehension.

_Love._

Sherlock Holmes has said I love you. To me.

I turn back, and he's still talking, still ranting on about how he hates how much he feels for me, and im charging at him for the second time that night, shutting him up with my mouth over his.

I don't stop and he doesn't push me away. The palms of my hands find his shoulder blades, and I clutch at the fabric stretching over them. His fingers tickle at the nape of my neck, and if i didn't think it would come out as a desperate sob, I would laugh.

Our lips break apart, but we're still holding on, and something hovers between us. Its the haunting spirit of what could have been, what should have been, and what still can be between him and me.

_I love you too, you maddening perfect man._

I nip at his bottom lip with my teeth, and he chases my mouth with his own when I pull away. It should feel wrong. My wedding is only half a day away, my fiancee is sleeping happily in the bed we share, and I'm here, thinking about the way Sherlock's muscle will feel against my tongue.

It should be wrong, but it isn't. Eight months of planning this wedding has been wrong, the year and a half I convinced myself I loved her before he came back (back _to_ me-back _for_ me) was wrong.

_This; Sherlock, is right._

_We're so right how could we have kept apart for so long. Why were we so afraid?_

"I'm not going to marry her. " I whisper into his ear.

Even if he and I never go anywhere beyond this moment, I know now that I can’t marry Mary, can’t be what she needs when my heart lives inside the walls of this flat; lives inside of someone else. I don’t want to pretend anymore; she deserve better than my second hand love, and so do I.

I find that my fingers have broken open the buttons of his shirt, and are gently tracing the scars I never knew where there. Each one tangles into another, and I can read the pain in every one of them, not just the physical pain, but the pain of being away, of being alone, of breaking himself to save me. I never appreciated it the way that I should have.

The sweet, breathless sound of my name on his lips hits my ears. My name has always sounded different in his mouth, but it’s never sounded like this, and I momentarily forget who I even am, until he says it again, and I remember.

“I need you, Sherlock. Please tell me I can.”

He’s reached out to take my chin between his fingers, holding me steady, and he just stares. I’m so vulnerable right now, and I think I know he won’t deny me, but I’m not sure; can never be sure when it comes to Sherlock Holmes.

A minute passes, maybe it’s two before he pulls me into him, and kisses me; so gentle, and slow that I can feel myself breaking apart inside. He lets go of my chin, but his fingers don’t leave me. They slide underneath my jumper, and grasp the hem to lift it away. We have to pull our lips apart to get it over my head, and I suddenly think Sherlock has always had an ulterior motive in wearing shirts with buttons.

I wrap my hand around his to take us away from the living room, because this is going to take time, and I’m not keen to spend my first night with Sherlock on our broken down sofa or hardwood floor. Those will save for next time.

He follows, and when we’re in the dark of his bedroom, he pressed a palm hard against my chest, and pushes me down onto the bed behind me. I giggle, but it turns quickly into a sharp intake of breath as Sherlock is knelt over me, his lips tasting at my skin. I’m resting on my elbows, my head arched back, because if I look at him, I know I’ll shatter into a million pieces.

His breath ghosts over me as he explores everything so intently from the shape and texture of my scar to the circumference of my bellybutton. I knew in the back of my mind that a moment like this with Sherlock would be intense, that he would want to study and remember everything, but I didn’t know it would be like this. Even in the dark I can feel his eyes, and I’m shaking, losing my breath with each piece of me he touches.

His fingers work at the buckle of my belt, and then the flies of my jeans. I lift my hips from the mattress, helping him to ease them off my body. He takes a minute to follow the lines of my body from my toes to my head, and back down again. I lean forward, and work at his trousers just the same, and then we’re both kneeling on the bed in our pants.

The gentle desperation we’ve been chasing all night gives way to a sudden frenzied want, and we’ve become a tangle of limbs and mouths and teeth; no amount of closeness being close enough, no one kiss, kiss enough. I need him, I want him; I want be inside of him, want him inside of me. I need to know what he sounds like at his most desperate and vulnerable, I need to know what his face looks like when an orgasm rips through his body; not just any orgasm, but one that I’ve made happen.

I want to make love to him, shag him; fuck him, and then do it all again and again for the rest of our lives.

Because this is what I came here for.

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**Author's Note:**

> Follow me here for writing updates and all things Sherlock/Benedict/Martin/Johnlock/And lots of other stuff!  
> http://mktellstales.tumblr.com/
> 
>  
> 
> Follow me here for fanfiction Reviews/Recs!  
> http://read-sherlock.tumblr.com/


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